


"It simply must be done!"

by orphan_account



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance, Umbrella Academy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Gen, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-28
Updated: 2011-07-28
Packaged: 2017-10-21 21:46:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/230180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a squad of time travelling assassins, Frank thinks, they do an awful lot of waiting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"It simply must be done!"

**Author's Note:**

> When I was looking through the sketches in the back of my paperback copy of Dallas, I couldn't look at the picture of the Bruno character (who was later replaced by Hazel and Cha-Cha) without thinking about Gerard's Mousekat head from the Na Na Na music video. THEN I started thinking, "What if the Killjoys worked for Temps Aeternalis?"
> 
> I would like to write a longer story about this eventually. I'd turn it into a Killjoy origin story, and have Hazel and Cha-Cha show up for longer than once sentence, but for now, here are four drabbles set in that verse.

**one**

“This,” Gerard says through gritted teeth, “is our last mission.” He takes aim as the first figure darts over the crest of the hill, and squeezes the trigger. Mikey can see his brother’s fragmented reflection in the shattered windowpane as he fires again, and again, and again.

They’re holed up in a crumbling hut in the middle of nowhere, picking off villagers with weaponry that won’t be invented for another couple of centuries. Mikey doesn’t know the year, but it doesn’t really matter. Nothing tremendously important ever happened here, and it’s his job to make sure it stays that way.

  
 **two**

For a squad of time travelling assassins, Frank thinks, they do an awful lot of waiting. They’re always waiting for an extraction, an assignment, a chance to pull the trigger.

It’s gotten better since joining up with the Killjoys, since the code names and the sense of actually belonging to something. It distracts him from the endless hours of waiting, from feeling like the things the agency has him doing are unspeakably _wrong_. It makes it easier for him to lie to himself.

His next correction is in his crosshairs, literally heartbeats away from death. Underneath his mask, Frank grins.

  
 **three**

Ray couldn’t honestly tell you how he ended up with _Temps Aeternalis_ , just that he wishes he never had. The doctors here did things to him, sliced and excised, twisted and molded and shaped until they turned him into something else, into something he would hate if he still knew how.

He likes to think there’s some part of his old self left, like the part that stares at the spreading pool of blood around Hazel and Cha-Cha’s latest “correction” in what should be horror, or fear, or disgust. But the undeniable truth is he can’t feel anything at all.

  
 **four**

“So,” Frank says, flopping down onto the couch beside him, “where are we going next?”

Anywhere but here, Gerard thinks. He’s been so tired of this for so long. But wherever, _whenever_ they go, they’ll be hunted. If they’re lucky, it’ll be somebody like 00.05, who at the very least will end it quickly.

And seeing as Gerard would rather not get his team brutally murdered, he couldn’t do much but accept the file that Carmichael slid across his desk. He glimpses Frank’s dark eyes before he glances down at the folder in his lap, and shrugs. “Battery City, 2019.”


End file.
